Three Weeks to Wed (3 page)

She called the maid and undressed. It had taken another glass of wine and several minutes to gather her courage. Then she threw the blanket around her shoulders and stepped out into the corridor to find him.

Fortunately, a light shone under the door at the other end of the corridor. It must be him. Except for her servants, sleeping on the floor above and in the stable, she and Worthington were the only two guests in the inn.

The old, worn floorboards were cold under her feet as she walked the short distance to his chamber. Taking a breath, Grace fought down the fear threatening to overtake her. Surely he would not turn her away. She knocked on the door and entered.

The pleased expression on his face told her she had not been mistaken. He did want her. Every bit as much as she had prayed he would.

A cold draft heralded Matt's door opening. He turned and his heart swelled with joy, as he gave thanks to the deity.

The pristine white of his lady's chemise peeked out from beneath the wool blanket she had wrapped around her body. Her long hair hung loose, curling over her shoulders to her waist. There was a small, timorous smile on her lips. Even though she was clearly nervous, she had come to him.

He thought briefly about what his friends had gone through to wed and smiled. This had to be the easiest courtship in history. All he'd had to do was take refuge from a storm.

She blushed. “May I—may I come in?”

Three long steps brought him to her. “Yes.”
Into my life, my home, my heart
. Part of him couldn't believe she was actually here. “Yes, you may come in.”

As he picked her up, the blanket fell to the floor. Matt kissed her and stared into her eyes before he walked to the large bed and gently lowered her feet to the floor. His fingers hovered over the ribbons of her chemise, tingling in anticipation. “May I?”

His lady glanced up at him. “Yes.”

He pulled the bows free, and the finely woven muslin fell to her hips. Matt lost his breath. Her hair screened all but the light pink tips of her generous ivory breasts. They called to him, begging to be tasted and worshipped. Was there ever a more perfect woman? He captured her lips with his, as he pushed the garment down to her waist. He stepped back, her hips swelled gently out and a triangle of gold covered her mons.

Drawing the sheets aside, he lifted her, placing her in the middle of the bed. He removed his dressing gown and crawled in next to her. He'd make this night, her first time making love with him, perfect for his lady.

Matt hesitated. Perhaps he should propose now before they made love. No, best to do it right to-morrow. She must know what he intended, otherwise she would never have come to him.

His lady lay still watching him, her eyes wide and dark as he traced her body with his palms. He had to touch all of her, to make sure she was truly there.
With my body I thee worship
.

“You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.”

She smiled a little and trembled.

“Don't be afraid. I'll be gentle.” He stretched out next to her, encouraging her to touch him as well before pressing soft kisses on her neck down to the perfect mounds of her breasts. Touching her nipples as they furled into tight buds for him, Matt took one into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue and sucking. She quivered and pressed into him. Sighing as he kissed his way down to the light curls between her legs. Triumphant, he found her already hot and wet for him.

A quiet moan escaped her lips, but she didn't tense.

When his tongue made a long, slow stroke across her center she cried out and arched off the bed. His body shook with desire as he drank in her delicate flavor. He'd never received so much satisfaction in pleasuring a woman. Perhaps it was because this one would be the only lady he'd pleasure for the rest of his life.

Grace took in his muscular chest with its dusting of hair. It was even more impressive without clothes. She fought her embarrassment when he removed her chemise, but there was no room for maidenly modesty. If she were to have only one night of passion she wanted it all, even if she didn't know what that entailed.

Grace would have to trust him to lead her.

Then he called her exquisite, and her heart melted.

He chuckled and stared down at her. “Touch me if you wish.”

She reached out, laying her hand on his chest, then couldn't resist playing with the curling, dark hair covering it. And though the hair was soft, his chest was hard, much harder than hers. She'd occasionally seen men in the fields without shirts, but none of them looked like Worthington.

He kissed her tenderly as he stroked her, everywhere. His hands, not soft like hers, but rougher, caused her skin to warm to his caresses. She didn't know how good another person's touch could be. A man's touch. Her breathing hitched as Worthington placed soft kisses where his hands had been.

“My lady,” he whispered. “My love.”

My love?
Tears tried to fill her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to allow them. If only that was true, but even if she were to entertain the notion of staying with him, he would not want to take on her responsibilities. She wouldn't think about that tonight. It was probably just something men said when they were with a woman. And what did it matter, this was what she wanted.

Allowing him to retake her senses, Grace moaned as tension ebbed and flowed and he laid claim to her. Need flowered deep inside. Desire flooded her, overwhelming her senses. Her breasts were heavy, and her nipples were so hard they ached. Worthington touched them, circling lightly with his thumbs. When he lifted his head, Grace tried to stop him from breaking their kiss. Then he took one nipple in his mouth and sucked. The sensation was like nothing she'd experienced before. She'd gone to heaven. He ministered to the other breast then placed featherlight kisses down her body to the sensitive spot between her legs. When he licked her lightly, she cried out, begging for more.

Worthington held her in place when her hips thrust up against him. Her body seemed to have more of an idea what to do than she did.

“Not yet, my sweet. You'll have your chance.” His voice was deep, intoxicating.

Grace thrashed her head. Her body tightened with tension until she thought she couldn't stand it anymore then suddenly, wave upon wave of delight flooded her. Her heart pounded so hard she could hear it.

He made a groaning sound and, with fluid grace, stretched out beside her again, claiming her lips. He tasted different this time. There was an added layer of musk to his arousing tang.

Worthington reached for a glass and took a sip, and offered it to her. “It's brandy.”

“Thank you.”

He raised her in his arms, and she took a sip, it burned.
Fool's courage
.

Worthington gazed down at her. The place between her legs throbbed. “Are you sure you want to go further, my love?”

How could she not? Some part of her was still empty, and she only had tonight to last for the rest of her life. “Yes, I am positive.”

His deep voice caressed her. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Stop?
Never.
Not now that she'd gone so far. She nodded. “I will.”

Hard lips teased hers and his tongue grazed her teeth. Moaning, she met his caresses with her own. His hand stroked the apex of her thighs, placing one finger inside her. The fire burned deep in her core and he held her to the kiss as she cried out. Nothing had ever felt so good or so right.

Worthington chuckled lightly, as if he was enjoying this as much as she. Grace was wet where he touched her and wondered why. He shifted his body over hers, slowly entering, filling her. Then he thrust, and a sharp pain spiked through her, and he stopped. Worthington's lips moved on hers and ravished her mouth, sending her into a whirling inferno that ripped away her wits.

The heat was so great Grace could only try to respond to him, to appease Worthington's need as well as her own. He kneaded her breasts, and she cried out through the kiss, wanting more.

When his lips left hers, he was fully inside her and gently thrusting.

“How do you feel, are you all right?” he murmured.

“Yes, I feel . . .” Grace couldn't find the words. The pain had receded and he, his body possessed her fully and she'd never known such joy.

“Well loved, I hope. You'll feel even more so. I promise. Wrap your legs around me.”

She did as he asked, and he took her even more fully. Flames danced and she sizzled. Grace was in the storm raging outside, but somehow hot, waiting for an explosion. Suddenly sparks shot through her.

I'll pleasure you for the rest of your life,
she thought she'd heard him say.

Matt swallowed her scream with a kiss. Her legs squeezed him like a vice, and her sheath tightened around him as he held on, with no hope of withdrawing. Thrusting deeper still, he spilled his seed. His lady had clung to him and was now slowly relaxing. He pressed soft kisses in her hair. This wonderful woman was his.

Before they'd climbed the stairs he'd decided to marry her because he needed a wife and she was everything he'd been looking for. Now he knew she was necessary to his future well-being. He needed to be with her for the rest of his life. They'd wed as soon as he could arrange it and nothing would separate them.

Matt arranged her next to him in the place that would be hers for the rest of their lives “Sleep, my love.”

Tears choked her. Grace wanted to say something to Worthington and couldn't. He'd done everything perfectly. Better than she could have ever imagined. She was such a fool to have thought she could give herself to him with no consequences. Still, she didn't know she'd fall in love. What was worse, he called her his love as if he meant it. The pain in her chest grew as her heart ripped in pieces. Even if he did love her, nothing could come of it; she'd given her oath and could not marry.

Hours later, a beam of white light streamed through the window waking Grace. The air was still. Bright stars twinkled in the antelucan sky. The storm had passed, and she was tucked into Worthington's side, warm and protected. She wanted to stay here for the rest of her life. Yet, she had to leave. Slipping out of the bed was harder than she'd thought it would be. He was so much larger than she, and she had to climb up out of the mattress's indentation. When he reached for her, she thought he'd woken. Stilling, she waited until he snored softly again.

Quickly donning her chemise, she grabbed the blanket, wrapping it around her. She glanced at the bed, memorizing Worthington's strong features, wishing she could risk kissing or touching him one last time.

Grace moved as silently as she could back to her room. She judged the time to be about four in the morning. Washing, she dressed as best as she could before ringing for the maid.

A soft knock fell on the door and Susan entered, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “Yes, my lady.”

Grace cast the girl an apologetic look and wished she had worn a gown with buttons in the front. “Please just tie my laces, and you may go back to your bed. I am sorry to disturb you so early, but I must be on my way. Please tell your father we'll be leaving.”

A few minutes later, Grace reached the ground floor. Mr. Brown handed her a cup of tea. “My lady, we'd be happy if you'd break your fast with us.”

Grace took the cup and smiled, but shook her head. “Thank you, but I must go home. My family will be worried.”

“Wait a bit, and I'll get you some bread and cheese. You can eat it on the way.”

Considering the amount of food she'd consumed at dinner, she was amazingly hungry. “Thank you.”

Shortly thereafter, Grace walked through the door and out into the frozen landscape to her coach. Heavy frost covered the ground and snow decorated the inn's windowsills. Thankfully, the moon was bright enough to guide them.

Her groom helped her into her carriage and a few moments later they were on their way. “We'll be at the Hall well before daylight, my lady.”

Pulling her cloak around her, Grace turned to Neep. “Thank you. Did any of you eat?”

“Some bread and ham. Good enough 'til we get back.”

Grace nodded and snuggled back against the soft, but cold, squabs, grateful for her cloak and the warm bricks under her feet.

As the coach lurched forward, she gazed out to the window of the inn's first-floor bedchamber where Worthington slept. The only man she'd ever wanted to love her did, and it was too late. Wishing he still held her in his strong arms, she tried to hold back her tears, yet they slid silently down her cheeks as she cried for what might have been and for what could never be.

A little more than an hour later, they turned into the drive of Stanwood Hall. She wiped away all traces of her sorrow and assumed a bright smile that would hide her misery.

Entering the large, airy Georgian hall, Grace was greeted by her concerned butler, Royston, who took her cloak. A moment later, an explosion of noise as six children, ranging in age from eighteen to five, ran to her. Pandemonium reigned as they poured their concern and fear into her ears.

She should have known they'd panic when she was delayed. “What are you all doing up so early? Here, I haven't had my breakfast yet. Let me eat and, if you will all quiet down, I can tell you what occurred to delay me.”

They escorted her to the breakfast room.

Eighteen-year-old Charlotte handed her a cup of tea while Walter, age fourteen, piled food on a plate and brought it to her. Alice and Eleanor, twins, age twelve, and Philip, eight, sat around the table staring at her, waiting. Mary, the youngest at five years of age, climbed into Grace's lap. The only one missing was Charlie, now the Earl of Stanwood, who was at Eton.

“I thought you had gone away like Mama did,” Mary said, her bottom lip trembling.

Grace hugged her sister tightly. “There is nothing to be afraid of. I'm here now.”

After taking a bite of toast and a sip of tea, Grace steeled herself to remain calm as she answered their questions. No one could know anything about Worthington or suspect there was anything wrong. “I was on my way home from Cousin Anne's when a storm hit. Fortunately, I was close to an inn and able to take refuge. Nothing more exciting than that occurred. Quite a dull trip all in all.” Nothing at all except meeting Worthington and spending the most wonderful night of her life in his arms. “Now, we have three weeks before we leave for London. I expect all of you to behave so that we may get off in good time. Royston”—she turned to her butler—“do I have anything in the post?”